men as various as their
skins and their faiths come to mingle; to worship or to wonder: seeking
each in his own fashion whatever clue to the meaning of things he can
take from that vast finger which carries the eye and the soul up and up
and points forever to the heart of mystery.

So it was natural enough, as it was also inevitable and ordained since
the beginning of time, that Cloots should have met the headman of
Apyodaw at last in one of the tiny shrines clustering under the Temple
of the Slanted Beam on Thehngoottara Hill....

The shrine in no way differed from the many lesser chapels and _zaydees_
that lined the ramp and the inner and outer platforms. Together they
might have seemed a jumble of booths thrown up there to attract the
unhurrying, sweet-voiced, hip-swinging natives who drifted and gossiped
like holiday makers at a fair.

But those booths were built of enduring stone with a serene and flawless
symmetry. And the wares they offered were the philosophies of an old,
old religion. And the folk themselves in their thighbound silks of
softened maroon and olive and citrine and cutch, with the pink fillets
about their brows and their open and twinkling brown faces, were a very
ancient folk indeed, who knew what they knew and did as they did a
small matter of thirty centuries ago.

* * * * *

Cloots stepped into the chapel for no purpose, in mere idle discernment
of color and contrast.

The pagoda and its whole base, dominating the city, swam in a level
flood of late sunset. Every surface had taken an almost intolerable
richness and warmth, from the far, jeweled spike of the _htee_ four
hundred feet above, down through fire-gilt and smoldering saffron to the
pigeon-blood ruby of the monastery roofs below. Even the shadows gave
off a purplish haze. But here, inside this plain, windowless cell of
white-washed wall and gray pavement, the visitor passed with the swift
relief of a diver's plunge to cool and quiet, and the pervading peace of
the Excellent Law.

At the end facing the doorway was the sole furnishing--a deep niche and
altar where sat the Buddha in perpetual contemplation.

Some forgotten devotee, toiling wearily like the rest of us up the
ladder of existence, had once earned the right to skip a step or two by
the gift of this life-size image. Some forgotten artist had acquired
merit by faithfully carving and lacquering it on teak, with the left
hand lying palm up